The Storm

The pounding of my heart grows. It is stronger and stronger. Louder and louder. Faster and faster.
I feel the constrictions as it pumps. Tighter and tighter it becomes. The pace ever quickening.
Beat ---- Beat--- Beat -- Beat - BEat - BEAt - BEAT - BEATBEATBEATBEAT

The storm rages.

The churning in my stomach begins. It roils and waves. Fluctuating. A sea of acid churning and thrashing. Fierce waves threatening to eject all that is within.

The storm rages.

My brain begins to throb. Thrum-thrum-thrum. It swells and aches, aches and swells. I feel it crammed against my skull. Pushing, pushing, pushing against solid bone as though it longs to break through and escape.

The storm rages on and on.

It grows stronger as it fuels and feeds on my insides. Ravaging my body.

I am a victim of the storm. The storm is anxiety.


Those outside the storm are quick to offer advice. From supplements, to meditation, to medication, to prayer. Good advice and bad. None of it useful in the storm. In the storm there is only the pounding, the churning, the throbbing, the irrationality, and worst of all... the guilt. The feeling that the storm is your own creation. The knowledge that it feeds on you. You are its fuel. You are the storm! 

All you can do is scream into the wind, "Save me! Save me from the storm! Save me from my destructive mind! Save me from myself!"


Today I am the storm